


Ignorance is Bliss

by RoughDraftHero



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern AU, idk how tags work i give up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoughDraftHero/pseuds/RoughDraftHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Prompt: Merlin and Arthur work in the same huge office building and see each other nearly every day. Merlin has no idea that Arthur is CEO and flirts outrageously with this random hot guy he keeps seeing on the elevator and in the lobby and around town. Arthur flirts back and doesn't let on who he is. Late night office sex happens and keeps happening.</p><p>Cue complete mortification and/or anger when Merlin discovers he's been having sex with Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Pendragon, Ltd, his ultimate boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignorance is Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my third kink meme prompt. it's set in that country that only exists in the minds of americans who write fanfic set in england and british people who write fanfic set in america. you know, that place.
> 
> Here's the prompt link: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35615.html?page=4

The elevator whirs.

Merlin keeps his hands folded behind his back, his eyes facing the closed metal doors. No matter what, he is not going to engage with the man standing next to him.

It's Percy. He keeps clearing his throat, and shuffling papers, and Merlin just _knows_  he wants to discuss quarterly reports, but the thing is... the last quarter ended two days ago, so there's no reason to. Merlin is not going to encourage this. Instead, he pulls out his phone, and starts texting to no one.

"Mer—"

"Ah, here we go," Merlin sighs as the doors open, and he steps out of the elevator, giving a little wave to Percy and walking down the hallway. He barely makes it a few yards when he hears the doors shut, and then he spins right back around.

—which is when he sees a man standing at the other end of the row of elevators with a folder open in his hands and a quirked smile on his face, as he stares at Merlin with clear blue eyes.

"Forgot something," Merlin says, licking his lips and nodding awkwardly.

The man straightens up, his eyebrows rising. His posture gives Merlin a full view of a well-cut suit and a trim figure, and it takes a moment for Merlin to look away—which he quickly tries to recover from by pressing the elevator button with a quick jab. But he misses by a centimeter, and ends up jamming his finger.

Sucking in a pained breath, muttering " _shit,_ " he looks up to the ceiling and shuts his eyes.

He hears the tapping of shoes on tiled floors, and then feels a presence next to him. Glancing over as subtly as he can, he sees the man standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, folder tucked under his arm, and he's leaning back with a relaxed air. The man grins at the elevator doors.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, Merlin follows the man's line of sight.

And what he sees is his reflection staring back at him.

This time when Merlin says "shit," and drops his head, he hears a low chuckle, and his cheeks burn. All this for just wanting to avoid the quarterly reports. Best to walk away, Merlin thinks, turning to escape as fast as he can.

"I thought you forgot something?"

The words sound oddly playful. When Merlin faces him again, he's leaning against the wall and staring at Merlin.

"I—did forget something," Merlin says slowly, his voice high as he squints. "But, it was a mental thing."

"A mental thing?" the man echoes pleasantly.

"A number," Merlin says, "a password?"

The man tilts his head, nods. "Hm."

"But I remember it now," Merlin said as confidently as he can, "So—yes." He starts backing away, careful not to trip over his own feet. "It was on a note in my cubicle, and I thought I wouldn't need the note. But you know how passwords are these days, upper case and lower case and special figures..."

The elevator doors open, and Merlin's mouth is dry. He exhales a laugh, but the man is already walking through, and then he's gone. The doors close with a _ding._

"Fantastic," Merlin sighs. Then he looks around helplessly, because he has no idea what floor he's on.

''''''''''''''''''''''

Merlin is hiding in the loo.

It's not like he's _constantly_  trying to avoid work, but his department head just got back from a meeting that obviously went down the shitter, so Merlin's only being self-preserving like the rest of his coworkers who scattered the moment they saw Gaius's face.

And, not that it's big deal, but he's also standing on top of the sink counter, stretching to reach the vent in the wall. He pulls a cigarette from his lips, and exhales—which is when he hears the door to the loo open.

"No, father, that's not—no," he hears a man's voice say, right before said man turns the corner. Their eyes meet. It's the man from before, the one who caught Merlin checking him out, much like he's caught Merlin checking him out yet again, because... _wow._

"I'll call you back," the man says, his eyes still locked on Merlin's. He taps the screen of his phone, slides it into his pocket, and then crosses his arms with a sigh as he stares up at Merlin. "...you got an extra?"

Merlin blinks, glancing down at the cigarette between his fingers. Then, he decides to go for it. "You'll have to smoke up here."

There's a small smile on the man's face as he looks at Merlin. "Up there?"

"Well," Merlin replies, acting nonchalant, "the smoke alarm."

"Ah, I see." The man pauses, considering the counter, and then shrugs, resting his weight on his hands and hoisting himself up with a grunt. When he's on his feet, their faces are about an inch apart on the crowded counter. But then the man grins, and slides around so they have more room. He holds his palm out expectantly.

Merlin grabs the pack from inside his coat pocket, and slides out a cigarette, handing it over to the man, and then flips open his lighter when the man leans forward with the cigarette in between his lips.

"Wouldn't it be nice if they had places people could do this," the man says, leaning up to blow the first breath of smoke into the vent. "You know, perhaps outside on the roof with those little canisters to throw used fags away."

"Yes, that would be lovely," Merlin replies with just as much sarcasm, exhaling a closed-eye sigh.

"My name is Arthur."

Merlin opens his eyes, and sees Arthur staring back at him with some kind of look, like his name is supposed to mean something—he's even grinning a little bit, to the point of smugness. It's hot in that obnoxious way; Merlin wants to wipe it off his face with a good, hard kiss.

Instead, he says "Merlin."

Arthur stares at him for another second, and then nods with a shrug.

There's a few things Merlin notices in such close proximity to Arthur: he smells nice, but maybe too nice if Merlin can smell his cologne over the smoke from the cigarettes. But the scent isn't bad at all, very smooth and masculine. He stands with a lot of confidence, one forearm resting against the wall with the vent, so he's caging Merlin in towards the mirror.

Unfortunately, sexual orientation is not visibly apparent.

"You're staring at me again."

With a jolt, Merlin cranes his neck around until he's facing far away from Arthur, and grimaces at the laugh that follows him. So, he decides to roll with the punches, and goes back to staring at Arthur, their eyes locking, and Arthur looks surprised, but amused. "Like what you see?"

He may as well have swaggered. Rolling his eyes, Merlin just shakes his head and takes another drag from his cigarette.

"Is that a no?"

"I like what I _see_ ," Merlin replies suddenly—and then he smiles. "What I _hear,_  on the other hand..."

"Oh, wow," Arthur says, pressing his hand against his chest in mock-hurt. "Nice. How flattering. May I remind you, you've been the one gawking at me? I'm just an innocent bystander."

Merlin narrows his eyes with suspicion, and he really can't take it anymore, plus he'd rather not waste his time. "...Are we flirting?"

The slow look of amusement that blossoms on Arthur's face seems promising, not to mention the wicked spark in his blue eyes. "Do you want us to be flirting?"

"I'm not opposed," Merlin replies, staring at his palm.

"I see."

Merlin glances up in time to catch Arthur licking his lips in thought, and then glancing down at his phone. "I have to go. Perhaps we can schedule another chance run-in and possible flirting?"

After a moment, Merlin turns his head with a grin, but he says, "one can usually find me loitering near the fifth floor vending machine around ten every morning."

Hopping off the counter, Arthur tosses the cigarette into the trashcan, and smooths a hand over his blond hair. "Fifth floor vending machine. Around ten. Check." He winks up at Merlin. "Looking forward to it."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

Keeping his wrist hidden under the conference table, Merlin checks his watch for what was probably the third time. It's ten-ten.

Inhaling, he drops his elbows on the table, sliding his hands together and tapping his foot as he glances around the room. Percy is engrossed in something on his phone, Gwen is asleep, and Mordred is failing badly at pretending he isn't eating his lunch early.

"Mordred," Merlin says. Mordred looks up, cheese puff poised to be tossed in between his lips. " _Is_ Gaius actually coming?"

Crunching down, Mordred holds up a finger as he chews, swallows, and then sighs. Then he says, "I think so?"

From the inflection, Merlin rolls his eyes and drops back against his chair with an exasperated breath. They had been futzing around for an hour by then, and this is supposed to be their big project meeting.

"Maybe we can leave him a note?" Mordred says.

Merlin stares. "A note?"

"Yeah like, with our ideas..." Mordred says, already pulling out a notepad and a pen.

After a brief moment of consideration, Merlin nods. "Yes, good. We'll leave a note. Someone wake up Gwen."

Percy taps her on the shoulder, and she sits up with a jerk, a piece of paper falling off her forehead. Wiping her mouth, she glances around. "What's going on?" she mumbles sleepily.

"We're writing our ideas down," Mordred says, chewing on his pen. He pulls it out of his mouth, and taps the table. "You know, tech has been hinting at iPads building-wide for awhile now—"

"—That's just because they want an excuse to request funding for that in-house data analyzing app they've been working on," Merlin cuts over him.

"Should we just spearhead the app?" Gwen says, still looking a little groggy. "Tech gets their toys, and we get credit for being forward-thinking?"

Merlin considers this, tilting his head. "It does sound fancy enough..."

"Gaius will hate it," Gwen says specifically to him, sharing a private little grin.

Nodding, Merlin chuckles. "So, win-win, basically." Pointing at Mordred, he pulls out his own phone so he can take down notes as he says, "Ok, so base level, the idea requires enough iPads to spread around and test the app on, when it becomes developed... if we can get funding for the app development first, I think the iPads can wait."

"Handing those out would gain support from the analysts," Mordred mutters.

"The analysts aren't the ones handing over the cash," Merlin replies, "Besides, most of them probably already have one."

"How do we keep ourselves vital in this?" Gwen says, "We know fuck-all about designing apps."

Sighing, Merlin scratches the tip of his nose. "We handle the business side; focus groups, contracting designers, that kind of thing. Let's draw it out as long as we can so we don't have to come up with the 'next big thing' for awhile."

"Good idea," Gwen drawls.

Merlin glances over at Percy, who looks a little sick. "You co-signing this, or what?"

"It sounds like bullshit," Percy replies, which earns a snort from Mordred.

"It's bullshit until we have an in-house, patented app that allows the analysts to work everywhere and anywhere that they are," Merlin says.

With a sigh, Percy nods.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

Merlin is too late for meeting Arthur, and he's too late for Famous Amos cookies. The hoard has raided, and all that's left in the vending machine is pretzels. Opting for a drink, he grunts as he stoops to grab the diet coke after it drops, and he stands back up, twisting the cap off.

"If you've been loitering this long, I'm surprised you haven't been given a citation."

Turning as he pours a sip of coke into his mouth, Merlin sees Arthur walking towards him, cheeks a little flushed, and his hair looking not-deliberately wind swept. When he reaches Merlin, he rests his hands on his hips and breathes in deep, slow pants. Merlin gawks at him, and then lowers the coke, his lip curling. "Did you run here?"

"A meeting on the other side of town—" Arthur starts, waving his hand, but then he pauses and shoots Merlin an exasperated look. "—Are you really going to tease me for trying to see you?"

Immediately, a blush spreads on Merlin's cheeks. He knows this because his face feels like it's on  _fire_. "N—no," he says, stumbling over his words as he tries to gracefully take another sip of his coke. He can just feel Arthur smirking at him, at the way the entire bottle is shaking. Thankfully, the soda goes in his mouth and down his throat, and not down his chin and all over his shirt.

Laughing, Arthur runs his fingers through his hair, and then sidles up next to the vending machine, leaning against it with exaggerated smugness, waggling his eyebrows as he waves down his sweaty face to his rumpled suit. "So, tell me, how charmed are you?"

To put it plainly, Arthur is hot. And not only is he hot, but he also has a self-aware sense of humor. Merlin tilts his head, as if appraising him. "Well, you're all right."

"Bastard," Arthur snorts, dropping his head.

With a grin, Merlin inches closer, resting his own palm against the vending machine, and taking another chug from the soda, leaving his body language very and obviously open. "If it makes you feel any better, I was worried about running late too, and actually took the stairs."

"The  _stairs_?" Arthur gasps, his eyes shining with amusement as he looks up at Merlin.

"If you knew me, you'd know what a special effort that is," Merlin replies primly.

Arthur watches him, a slow smile stretching across his face. "So then, how does one go about getting to know Merlin?"

"Well," Merlin sighs, "There's coffee breaks, lunches out of the office—"

"Mhm," Arthur says, his expression not getting any less wicked as he advances towards Merlin.

"—making out in my cubicle after everyone has left—" Merlin continues idly, flicking a finger nail.

"Let's try that one," Arthur says.

"Well, I'm not that easy," Merlin replies, meeting Arthur's eyes. "Before doing anything, I do like to know which department the employee I'm breaking company policy with is from."

Merlin's a little high on nerves and anticipation, so it might be over-analyzing when he catches a brief shadow cross over Arthur's face—just a little bit of a frown—but then he's grinning again, and moving even closer to Merlin. "...I work upstairs."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

When Merlin returns to his floor, and then his cubicle, it is done in a self-satisfied strut, which he probably should have realized Gwen would notice. Or maybe he had been counting on that.

He sits down at his chair, turning it slightly with the tips of his toes, while playing with the cap on his diet coke bottle, and he knows he should be booting up his computer and writing down a project proposal summary for the in-house data analyzing app, but he doesn't.

Staring at him from the other side of their double cubicle, Gwen lets out a loud, "Mhmm?"

"Did you know there were men working for this company?" Merlin asks idly.

"I've heard rumors," Gwen replies, turning fully and crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair.

Merlin narrows his eyes in thought. "Just when I thought the situation was hopeless—"

" _Hey,_ " he hears Mordred mutter from the other side of the partition.

Merlin throws Gwen an amused look, shaking his head before saying, "Anyway, turns out  _upstairs_ has been hiding all of them."

Dropping her chin on her palm, Gwen does her very best I'm-pretending-to-be-amused-but-actually-I-don't-c are look. Merlin scowls at her, opens his mouth to tell her what a prat she is, when he feels a very dark, ominous presence looming over his cubicle. "Hello, Gaius," Merlin sighs.

"A note?" Gaius rumbles. "You thought you could end the meeting and leave because you left a  _note_?"

"We...also emailed it to you," Merlin replies, eyebrows rising as he grins at his blank computer screen. When there's nothing but silence above him, he gathers his courage and looks up at Gaius. "So, what did you think of the idea?"

"I hated it," Gaius replies. Merlin nearly loses his composure when he hears Gwen cover up a snort with a very dramatic cough.

"Besides hating it, what did you think of it?" Merlin says hopefully.

"I also thought that corporate is going to hate it," Gaius says, "They're going to take one look at the bottom line, and then ask me why there's no revenue involved,  _why_ would this project be hemorrhaging money, and never, ever bringing it back in?"

"That is a conundrum..." Merlin says, his voice weak. Licking his lips, he closes his eyes for a second, and then returns to looking at Gaius. "At least you recognize what the benefits are, right? 24/7 app access to our network, not to mention the features tech can design..."

Gaius stares at him. "Merlin, I'm letting your team present the idea, but I'm not going to back it, and I don't think corporate will either. And let me remind you, this will be the third idea you present to them, and will most likely follow the same fate as the other two."

With that, Gaius nods at him and Gwen, and then goes to disappear inside his office.

Merlin groans, and drops his forehead on his keyboard.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

"—and this is where I put my pens," Merlin says sedately.

Arthur is standing there, somehow making Merlin's cubicle feel even more drab than usual, with his hands stuffed in his pockets and expression set in serious concentration as Merlin holds a chipped novelty mug in front of his face. "I won it in a hot dog eating contest at that financial conference last year."

Arthur looks up at him, lip curling in amusement. "You were the employee who won that?"

"Did the story get around?" Merlin sighs, setting the mug back down next to his computer. "I.T. dared me to do it. I had no choice."

"Oh, well, if I.T. dares you to do it..." Arthur says, his teasing half-hesitant, probably because of how down Merlin is acting.

Not wanting to ruin things, Merlin shoves him half-heartedly, laughing "shut up, bastard, you know what pricks they are." And then he crosses his arms, leaning back against his desk as he observes Arthur in the dark of the empty office. "Of course, nothing compared to  _upstairs_."

"Oh," Arthur replies with a chuckle, dropping his hand on the edge of Merlin's cubicle and leaning close enough to invade Merlin's personal space. He looks relieved that Merlin's mood seems to be lifting. "and what exactly do you know about upstairs?"

Merlin grins, wondering how he should answer. He figures Arthur is one of the gofers he usually sees running around sometimes, the ones who are constantly shadowing the higher ups of Pendragon Financial with coffee and planners. He has that smug bastard suck-up look that comes from saying he works on the top floor.

"I know corporate is a bunch of assholes," Merlin says finally, appraising Arthur from under hooded eyes. "They've shot down our last two projects."

Opening his mouth, Arthur looks ready to spar for a moment, but then he shuts his eyes, and touches the tip of his nose with his finger before saying, "That does sound like an asshole move," with a measured tone.

From a distanced standpoint, Merlin can rationally see that Arthur is trying to be compromising, probably so any possible—imminent, or otherwise—fooling around won't be vetoed, but the ball has already started rolling, and Merlin would be lying if he said he hadn't been raring for a showdown since his run-in with Gaius.

And Arthur, who works  _upstairs,_ with corporate, was a perfect, and unfortunate target.

"Oh, no," Merlin says, gamely trying to keep  _some_ light-heartedness in his tone, "Did I just call all of your private-jet owning, Armani-wearing, country club gods a bunch of assholes?"

Arthur is tightly nodding along with Merlin's words, fingers tapping on the side of the cubicle, and his eyes flashing.

Tilting his head, Merlin smiles innocently. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Turns out, Arthur can move pretty fast. Probably comes from skittering around the office gofering for the corporate jackoffs.

He's in front of Merlin, slams his palms down on either side of him, making everything on the desk rattle. He's smirking, his hot breath puffing against Merlin's lips. "Why are you being such an ass?"

After a second, Merlin kisses him. Arthur looks unamused.

Merlin kisses him again, their lips briefly touching, and when he pulls away this time, he can see the irritation starting to melt. More than anything, Arthur looks like he's expecting quite a bit more of what Merlin is offering before he's willing to forgive.

So, pushing his hands inside Arthur's jacket, Merlin pulls him in close, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist until their bodies are flush together, lips locked, grinding against each other.  _Finally_ , he feels Arthur's grip on his hips, tightly squeezing, and then the pressure of Arthur's palms sliding up his back.

But then Arthur shoves against him, and Merlin slams into the desk, a laugh escaping him. In the next second, he's biting Arthur's lip and digging his fingers into his back, which earns a grunt of pain, and then a low growl.

The next thing Merlin knows, Arthur's clasping his hips and lifting him up onto the desk, shoving him back, almost knocking Merlin's computer over. He stares at Merlin, cocking an eyebrow. "Really, though," Arthur says, "what's with the attitude?"

Dropping his gaze, Merlin bites his lip. Well, it really shouldn't be a big deal bringing it up with Arthur, he's just a lackey anyway. "My team and I are presenting a new project proposal in a couple of weeks..." Merlin says, trailing off. When Arthur continues to watch him expectantly, he sighs and finishes with, "to upstairs. They reject  _everything—_ "

Arthur cuts him off with a kiss—a full one that doesn't leave any room for interpretation.

Perfectly willing to drop the discussion, Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur, pulling him in, and they're kissing much more sloppily and desperate than before. Grabbing Arthur's collar with both hands, Merlin keeps him from backing away, not that he's trying to, but it almost feels like Merlin could shoot a load just from the kissing, so he's not too keen to stop.

He moans, losing the rhythm, and Arthur chuckles before saying, "You want to do more?"

Merlin scrunches his eyes shut, opens his mouth to respond when he feels Arthur cup his cock, and he bites back a string of curses, rolling his hips to get more friction. "Don't mess your pants," Arthur mutters hotly into his ear, his tone full of gentle teasing.

Past caring anyway, Merlin fumbles for his own fly, jerking it down, and practically forcing Arthur to slip his hand down until the surprisingly smooth skin of his palm is actually making contact with Merlin's cock.

Arthur follows the silent orders, circling his hand and jacking at a slow, cruel pace. Hissing low, Merlin drops his forehead on Arthur's shoulder, cursing him out under his breath. Then, suddenly, Arthur picks up speed and roughness and Merlin practically vibrates, gripping on to Arthur as tight as he can.

When he comes, he bites his lip to keep from crying out.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

Merlin's sitting backwards on his rolly chair, tilting in half-circles as he stares at the back of Gwen's head in their shared cubicle. With a long, drawn out sigh, he says, "What—does it mean when... someone. Gives you, for instance, half their sandwich, but  _then,_ doesn't expect a chip in return?"

Pausing from her typing, Gwen remains motionless. Then, she looks over her shoulder at Merlin. "...What?", she asks, her eyebrows rising.

Merlin squints. "Or, like," he says, waving his hand around, "you're perfectly willing—in fact, you  _really_ want to give this guy a chip, but he makes a point of turning down the chip. What, uh." Merlin scratches his chin, "What could that be about, possibly?"

Still staring, Gwen suddenly smiles knowingly, laughing a bit, and Merlin laughs too, nodding along and rubbing the back of his head, but then Gwen says, "If you're hungry Merlin, you can just—"

"No, no," Merlin says quickly, "No. That's not," he sighs, dropping his forehead on his arms.

"Maybe he's allergic," Mordred says from the other side of the partition.

"Allergic," Merlin snorts, "To blowjobs? I doubt it."

Heavy silence starts at right about the point Merlin stops speaking, and doesn't go away until he hears the creak of weight lifting off an office chair, and then he sees Mordred's face appear over the top of the partition. "Oh, my," Mordred says with the laziest amount of theatricality that Merlin's ever heard. "Is that uh, a new brand of chip, then?"

"Well," Gwen cuts in, rolling back around to face her computer, "the point is we need to get the beta out by Thursday."

The words register, and both Merlin and Mordred are back at their desks within the next second, just as Gaius rounds the corner towards their cubicle-cluster. Merlin can already hear the rev up-a string of salty curses-to the impending rant.

"Did you know," Gaius says when he's entered shouting distance, "That this particular department was created during a peak economy?"

Merlin and Gwen groan in unison.

"Yes," Gaius continues, reaching them, resting his arm on the partition, "the board was feeling flush, thought it could add on a few luxuries. Trim the fat, I say."

"Aren't you the head of this department?" Merlin asks, full of innocence as he looks around at Gaius.

"I'm also in charge of performance reviews," Gaius replies.

They smile at each other for a second. "Did you need something?" Merlin asks.

"Yes, actually," Gaius replies, pulling out a folder from under his arm, and holding it out to Merlin, who stares at it dubiously. "I need you to run this upstairs. To Agravaine or Morgana, whoever you see first."

Merlin takes the outstretched folder, eyeing the front, but there's no indication of what it is. "You know, there's this fancy dealie nowadays, I think it's called e-mail, or something—" He stops when he sees the look on Gaius's face. "Well, there's something to be said for the personal touch."

Gaius 'harrumphs' and walks away. Merlin watches him leave, and then turns to Gwen. "Who is Morgana, and who is Agravaine?"

First Gwen laughs like Merlin just made a dumb joke, but when Merlin just stares, her eyebrows draw together even as her smile curls with gleeful amusement. "You're serious," she says, "You seriously don't know who runs and  _owns_ this company."

"I'm new," Merlin replies breezily, shrugging.

"Oh, come on," Gwen says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, "you transferred in from the branch office—what was it—six months ago!"

Merlin rubs at his eyebrow while trying, at least a little bit, to look ashamed.

"Those are the ones we're presenting to this time, you know," Mordred says, having reappeared post-Gaius intrusion. "Maybe even Uther."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''

He's halfway through the folder when the door to the elevator dings, and he looks up for his first-ever view of upstairs. He's frowning, however, because he now knows that Gaius has him carting up printouts of five different articles about the royal baby.

"The man has gone senile," Merlin mutters, stuffing the folder under the crook of his arm, and stepping out onto plush carpeting. Nowhere to be seen are the florescent lights and flimsy cubicles of Merlin's floor-it's all lovely couches at the reception area (good for a nap, probably, Merlin thinks) and fancy wood-paneled offices.

Reaching the receptionist, he rests and arm on her desk, smiling as he slides the folder forward. "For Ms. Pendragon, or Mr. de Bois"

She stares at it, and then looks up at Merlin. "They're both in their offices."

Merlin nods, tapping the folder as he chuckles. Like hell he's going to be the random lowly employee who shows up in Morgana's office with an article pondering whether baby George will inherit his father's balding genes. "If you don't mind..."

Still staring, the receptionist vaguely gestures towards the line of offices. "Ms. Pendragon is three down, on the right."

"Okay," Merlin says slowly, picking the folder up. "Onwards, then. On to greatness. On to glory—" He stops at the glazed-eyed look the receptionist gives him, and sighs. With a final giant, awkward wave, he pushes away from the desk and takes his time walking down the hallway.

Inevitably, he gets to the right door. He stands in front of it, clears his throat, takes a surreptitious glance to see if there's enough space under the door to slip the folder through—there isn't—maybe he can slip each paper through one by one, but he could be caught if he did that—

"Well don't have a meltdown."

Merlin blinks. He knows that smug tone.

And then there is Arthur, sliding in around Merlin, in between him and the door, he's taking the folder out of Merlin's hand with a smirk, and  _then_ he's...walking down the hallway. Merlin blinks a second time, glances down at his empty hand, and then starts off after Arthur.

"Excuseme," Merlin says blandly, jogging to catch up with him, "Those are important documents, Ms. Pendragon requested that I bring them up—"

"Actually, she doesn't give two shits about the royal family," Arthur replies, his grin wide, and they're at the end of the hallway in front of a fancier set of doors than Morgana's. Arthur looks at Merlin, waggles his eyebrows, and then pushes the door open, stepping inside.

Merlin pauses, taking one last glance down the hallway towards Morgana's door, and then shrugs. She helps run a multi-billion pound financial company, she probably knows how to use google. Following Arthur, Merlin first leans into the office, eyes darting around, and then walks in. "Do you actually do anything up here? Or do you just hinder others from doing their vastly important work."

"I make phone calls," Arthur replies

"Oh, yeah?" Merlin says, shooting him a less-than-impressed smirk.

Arthur's eyes are shining as he walks behind the office's desk, bracing himself on the surface as he picks up the phone. "Yes, this is Pendragon's office, I need Merlin Emrys from special projects to bring up a fax I'm sending now."

With that, he sets down the phone with a click, stands up to his full height, and crosses his arms.

Merlin's not sure if he's aroused or irritated by the so-far constant and unflagging self-satisfaction wafting off Arthur since he met him, but he does chuckle, and nod as he says, "How dastardly."

Shrugging, Arthur traces his finger on the desk as he sidles back around, coming closer to Merlin. "I thought it was a clever prank."

"Clever in the sense that it's what you'll be known for when people talk about that one guy who got fired," Merlin replies, even as he closely follows Arthur's slow progress towards him.

Tilting his head, smiling wryly, Arthur replies, "Hm, I don't think so."

He's nearing Merlin, still smirking in that smug way of his, and Merlin almost tenses, can almost feel the touch, but then Arthur sidesteps around him, and Merlin hears the door click shut _._ Next goes the lock, and then... Merlin feels a shiver run down his spine, knowing Arthur is behind him and apparently just fine there.

"Look," Merlin says, turning, finding Arthur standing in front of the door with his hands behind his back, where he's probably holding the doorknob, "I do love my fun, I really do, but this isn't your office and it's certainly not my office, and I'd rather not meet who actually—"

"He's out today," Arthur replies smoothly, his eyebrows rising. "All day."

Merlin swallows. He can't help glancing around at the needlessly luxurious office. It looks untouched-a model showroom rather than a place of business. "Well, I can believe that."

When he meets Arthur's eyes again, he's thrown by the slight frown, but then Arthur's lip quirks. "Let's pretend it's my office," Arthur says.

Merlin exhales an amused breath. "Excuse me?"

But Arthur just has that wicked look on his face as he pushes away from the door and stalks towards Merlin, who finds himself backing up step for step until his ass hits the desk, rocking the things on top. It wakes him up, and he raises a palm, shoving it against Arthur's chest. "Coming on a little strong there, mate."

Arthur pauses, watching Merlin, and then he closes his eyes and licks his lips. When he opens his eyes, his expression has smoothed out to something nicer. With a laugh, he says, "You're right. If it's any explanation, let's just say I had this thing going a certain way in my head."

Merlin likes the compromising tone, even if it might be bullshit. "This thing?"

"This dastardly plan of mine," Arthur replies with a small smile, his blue eyes meeting Merlin's, "I wanted to play a little game."

"I do like games," Merlin says, easing the pressure of his hand against Arthur's chest, so it's less of a blockade, and more of a coy touch.

Arthur's grin returns. "Well, this one involved you calling me Mr. Pendragon, and me fucking you on that desk."

He tries, he really does, but after a fraught second, Merlin can't hold back the snort. He presses the back of his hand to his mouth to suppress any more giggles, but it's hard. He does manage to choke out, "Isn't that kind of odd? Don't you have your own last name?"

Arthur, amazingly, does not look embarrassed at all. "Is the last name a deciding factor for you?"

Shaking his head back and forth, small chuckles still escaping his lips, Merlin wipes away a tear of mirth. "Good god, you're a bit bent, aren't you? You want to play the CEO fucking his employee?"

"Pretty much," Arthur replies lightly.

Merlin opens his mouth to mock Arthur even more, but then he stops. And he really looks.

Arthur is standing there in a sleek three-piece suit, the jacket hanging open to reveal a trim vest. His blond hair is slicked back with a few sharp strands falling into his eyes. Basically he looks like he stepped right out of a GQ magazine.

And suddenly Merlin is seeing the potential.

"So, I—" he says with an air of nonchalance, bringing his fingertips to his chest, " —am the hapless and naive employee, and you—" he continues, shifting forward to run a hand up the silk of Arthur's vest, grinning when Arthur moves forward against his palm, "are the rich boss who likes taking advantage of his position?"

Arthur 'hmms,' with a slow smile, clasping Merlin's hips and pulling him closer. "Starting see the merit in it, are you?"

"Possibly,  _Mr._  Pendragon," Merlin replies, making sure his tone is dripping with sarcasm as he wraps his arms around Arthur's neck.

"God, your attitude," Arthur breathes, reaching up to grab Merlin's wrists in a tight hold, pulling them away from his neck and then holding them between he and Merlin, keeping Merlin locked there. "It's half the reason I even want to play this game."

Merlin's fingers curl into his palms, and he lets his muscles go slack, his shoulders dropping. It's just enough to trick Arthur into relaxing his hold.

With a smirk, Merlin twists out of Arthur's grip, shoving him backwards and then scrambling around the desk, laughing all the way.

He hears a muttered "you  _prat,_ " and then the thudding of feet as Arthur quickly follows. Sprinting past the desk, Merlin is just about to reach the door when Arthur slams into him, locks his arms around Merlin's waist, and then rather ungracefully foists him up, turns, and trudges back to the desk.

"Quit struggling," Arthur grunts, right when Merlin lands an elbow to his gut.

Merlin is convulsing with giggles, but they're starting to die as his face flushes at the surprisingly strong grip around his waist, his heart rate picking up. He keeps wriggling, dragging his feet on the ground to hamper Arthur's movements.

And it's not too hard to tell that Arthur is enjoying Merlin's antics as well, pressing his face against Merlin's neck, breathing in, even as he keeps lugging Merlin towards the desk. When they get there, Arthur bends Merlin over with a rough shove, and pauses, his hand resting on Merlin's back. "Christ," he pants, "You are ridiculous."

"I thought we were playing games?" Merlin replies, even with his cheek pressed down against the wood surface. There's a stapler jutting under his stomach, and his legs are a little too long to make this whole bent-over-the-desk thing as excitingly erotic as Arthur probably thinks it is, but besides that...

Merlin shifts, shoving the stapler out from under him, trying to get at least a bit more comfortable.

"Look at you," Arthur laughs, "Wiggling your ass at me."

 _Christ, he's kind of an insufferable prat, isn't he?_ Merlin thinks.

But then Arthur suddenly bends over next to Merlin so that they're face to face, and grins. "Look," Arthur says, "I have some condoms and lube with me, but if this isn't something you want to do—"

"I never said that," Merlin replies just a little too quickly. He had been driven by the sudden rush of disappointment from Arthur breaking the moment. "We can do this," Merlin says slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Arthur's.

Arthur's grin turns that much more wicked. He pushes up from the desk without saying anything, disappearing from Merlin's view. Merlin can hear the soft thuds of his footfalls on the carpet, but he can't tell how close or far they are. "What do you like about this office?" Arthur says suddenly, lowly-somewhere on Merlin's right.

Licking his lips, Merlin lets out a breath. "Uh," he says, "well...it's quite clean."

Silence again, a clear illustration that Arthur didn't receive the answer he was looking for.

Merlin slides up a bit, so he's resting on his forearms, and glances around the office. "It's on the top floor," he says.

Arthur chuckles, but he's still behind Merlin somewhere. "With all the top floor snobs, right?"

"Yeah," Merlin says. He thinks about that, about how these rich bastards up these luxury offices always rejected his proposal. Fucked him over royally. A small shiver runs down his back. Licking his lips, his head drops a little. "Is this your office?"

A beat of silence extends a little too long, and Merlin is just about to turn around to look at Arthur when he hears Arthur clear his throat. "Of course it is. Why do you think I called you up here?"

He's adopted a stern tone-commanding. Merlin's lip curls with amusement. Arthur  _wishes_ this was his office, the ass-kissing gofer. Well, if it meant fucking in this office, fucking on the desk of some Pendragon who would never know, then what's wrong with fulfilling Arthur's fantasy?

Merlin sniffs, as if bored. "I have no idea,  _Mr. Pendragon_. But if you don't have anything for me to do…"

A hand slams down on the desk, and Merlin flinches. Arthur is hovering over him. But he doesn't say anything, just slides that hand under Merlin's waist, where he grabs at Merlin's belt and starts undoing it with rough jerks. "Mr. Pendragon…" Merlin breathes, lacing his tone with apprehension.

Arthur pauses. And then he looms closer, and Merlin can feel him press his nose into Merlin's hair. "This is your fault."

Turning his head to the side a little, eying Arthur, Merlin gives him a dry smile. But Arthur just cocks one eyebrow, and Merlin sighs. "My fault?" he says.

Circling a gentle grip around Merlin's arm, Arthur runs his hand down until he reaches the cuff, slipping his fingers underneath to rub his thumb against Merlin's tender pulsepoint. Merlin draws in a breath at that, feeling his cheeks heat when it's obvious that his heart is beating just a little faster.

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur rumbles, his lips dragging along the back of Merlin's neck. "You keep smiling at me. You've been flirting with me. It's too late now, you wanted this. It's your fault." Each word is accented with another rub against the underside of Merlin's wrist.

Merlin actually kind of likes the tone Arthur is using—how he's making himself sound manipulative, as if Merlin really is some naive employee caught up in being coerced by his superior.

Letting go of self-conscious thoughts that ruin the mood, Merlin lets the excited chills sweep over his body. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice unsteady, "I really didn't mean to."

"Yes, you did." Arthur starts pulling Merlin's pants down past his waist, and then Merlin feels them drop around his ankles. "You came here hoping I would fuck you."

Burying his face in his arm, Merlin shivers. "I swear I didn't."

Merlin hears Arthur draw in a steadying breath. And then Merlin feels his shirt being pushed up his back, the cool air of the office hitting his skin. Arthur starts at the midpoint between Merlin's shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses down his spine.

Merlin's fingers curl against his palms, and he shuts his eyes, focusing on the way Arthur keeps kissing his back, as if to distract from the way he's also tugging Merlin's briefs down to his thighs.

With a low, pleased hum, Arthur palms Merlin's ass. Merlin responds by tentatively working his hips, grinding against the touch, and he hears Arthur chuckle.

"I knew it," Arthur says.

Even if it is just a game, Merlin twitches from the strange arousal tinged with shame that comes from being caught wanting cock inside him. He runs his tongue over his lips, craning his neck so he can look at Arthur. "I'm sorry," he repeats softly.

The look Arthur gives him is heated, his eyes dark. "It's too late," Arthur says thickly. He reaches to undo his fly, and pulls out his thick cock, jacking it a few times as he stands straight, watching Merlin. Then he slips his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small tube and squirting most of the contents in his palm.

When he slides his hand against Merlin's hole, Merlin whips his head back to facing front, biting his lip. He arches his spine as Arthur shoves a finger in. That first breach is always so odd, Merlin always feels a brief flash of wrongness, that he wants the intruder  _out_ —

But then Arthur slips in a second finger, all hot and slick, and curves them both a little to tickle just the right spot.

Merlin groans, his eyes scrunched shut.

"Your legs are shaking," Arthur says, the detached amusement in his voice real enough to make Merlin want to curse him out. But before Merlin can, Arthur scissors his fingers wide, and Merlin gasps.

With that, Arthur pulls out, and gives Merlin's ass a sharp smack. Wincing, Merlin presses his forehead against the desk, waiting, listening as he hears the condom wrapper being torn. It's all breathless anticipation, and then he feels it-the blunt edge of Arthur's cock against his hole, a half-second warning before the whole thing is shoved in at once.

" _Fuck,_ " Merlin cries, his eyes blowing wide. Arthur clasps his hips, angling himself, and then starts snapping forward before Merlin even has time to gather his wits.

The desk rocks with each thrust, pen cup tipping over and computer shaking. Merlin's eyebrows pinch together, his lips parting but he can't make a sound, just mouths wordlessly. He holds himself up on his forearms, his back arched down with his ass up as Arthur pounds into him.

Inside him. Stretching him. Merlin loves this part, the heat and thickness of another man forcing itself into Merlin's body. He spreads his legs some, welcoming Arthur as he drops his head.

Arthur is grunting while Merlin pants. His hands are vices, but one releases and circles roughly around Merlin's cock. "Fuck it," Arthur demands.

"I ca—" Merlin replies weakly, his brain clouding with heat. He can barely keep his knees from buckling, let alone bring himself to thrust into Arthur's hand. "C—come on," he pleads. "Mr. Pendragon…"

Arthur chuckles—Merlin reduced to begging obviously his intent all along. He starts jacking Merlin in time with his pounding.

"Oh, christ," Merlin gasps, "Oh, god."

He comes first, all over the front of the desk. Arthur's not far behind, tensing up and then shoving into Merlin like his orgasm might be hidden somewhere far deeper than he was reaching already. Finally he lets out a pleased grunt, and the pounding fades to twitching jerks as Arthur keeps rubbing his hand up and down Merlin's back.

He stays like that for a moment, just standing there buried inside Merlin. And then he lets out a quiet sigh, and pulls out. Merlin grimaces at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

"Here," Arthur says, and Merlin turns to see him holding out a handful of tissues from the desk. Merlin takes it, cleaning himself up as Arthur does the same.

"The desk…" Merlin says, his lip curling.

"Ah, yeah," Arthur replies, walking up to stand beside Merlin. "Look at that, healthy boy."

Merlin snorts. "Shut up."

He takes another tissue from the box, and kneels down to wipe at the mess he had made. "I have to get going," he says, "Our project isn't going so well."

There's a pause, and then Arthur says "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Merlin replies, "The all-powerful Pendragons up here are going see right through the bullshit, and I might be out of a job."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Arthur walk around the desk, and then Arthur's on the other side, settling down on the plush leather chair. "What bullshit?"

Tossing the tissues into the bin, Merlin then grabs his pants and pulls them up as he rises to his feet. "It's not the best idea," he says slowly as he latches his belt back into place. He glances up at Arthur, holding his arms out with a questioning eyebrow. When Arthur nods that Merlin looks fine, he sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "It won't have any tangible revenue."

Arthur rests back in the chair, his finger tapping gently on the armrest. "Then why not come up with something better?"

Considering him, eyes hooded, Merlin nods with a sharp smile. He's too sated at the moment to really get angry, but he does bristle at Arthur's condescending tone. "I had already—my first two ideas. They were shot down immediately by whoever parks his pretty ass where you're sitting now."

He watches as Arthur's lip curls. "No chance they were vetoed for a reason?" he asks slowly.

Scoffing, Merlin gives a tight little shake of his head and folds his arms over his chest. "Yeah, maybe," he said, "Stupidity? Ignorance in the face of actual innovation? Who knows. Maybe you should ask one of your beloved Pendragons."

Arthur considers him, blue eyes squinting. Then, the chair creaks as he stands up and slowly paces around the desk towards Merlin, who instinctively backs up.

Pausing, Arthur's eyebrows rise just a smidgen, his the corner of his lip quirking. "The way you speak… I'm surprised you haven't been canned yet. Especially with how useless you seem to be to the company." And then, with a deep sigh, he reaches forward and brushes his thumb over Merlin's lip. "But I suppose that's all right—"

Merlin cuts him off by knocking his hand away, frowning. He may have liked Arthur's smug tone during play time, but it really is starting to grate. "Useless?" he says, eyes narrowing.

Arthur seems unperturbed by Merlin's mood. He just shrugs, face set in perfect nonchalance. "Mind you, I formed that opinion merely from what you've told me yourself."

So, Merlin is done here. He tries to move away, but his whole body jerks back, and he stares wide-eyed down at his arm where Arthur is gripping his wrist. "Merlin," Arthur says, "Why are you getting upset?"

"Don't worry about it," Merlin replies, voice all nice and fake as he wraps his own fingers around Arthur's wrist, and drags the offending hand away.

The look Arthur is giving him is devoid of any emotion. His eyes are dark, his lips settled in a thin line, but besides that, Merlin can't tell what he's thinking. But then he whips his hand out of Merlin's grip, and circles back around to the chair.

When he sits down, he crosses one leg over the other, and leans back with a small, cold smile. "So, I'm assuming, we're done?"

"That's right," Merlin replies.

With a nod, Arthur sighs again, his lips upturned in a 'what-can-you-do' smile. He sniffs once, glancing at the phone on the desk, and reaches forward to press a button down. "Freya?"

"Yes?" A girl's voice speaks clearly over the line.

Arthur pauses for a second, Merlin watching with rapt attention-and a whole lot of confusion-and then Arthur says, "As it turns out, I don't need to cancel my afternoon appointments."

He meets Merlin's eyes.

Then Freya says, "Yes, Mr. Pendragon."

As soon as Freya stops speaking, Merlin sees a slight flicker in Arthur's expression, the smugness all but disappearing and the corners of his lips going down, his gaze dropping, but then he looks back up at Merlin. He's smiling again, but it looks strained.

And then the words hit him.

Merlin had been playing this whole game—all of this flirting and kissing and now fucking—with not who he thought he was. Pendragon. His boss. His boss's boss. This guy who he thought had been a gofer, who he had talked shit to abou the Pendragons…

Merlin blinks once. "Ah," he says stupidly. And then he lets out a breathy laugh. "You got me."

Arthur's smile falters again. His jaw clenches. "You… may go now."

"Right…" Merlin says. He reaches up to scratch the back of his ear, turning one foot towards to the door. But then he glances back at Arthur. It's so hard to adjust to the sudden realization of who Arthur is, when not ten seconds ago, Merlin was so sure he was some ladder-climbing gofer.

Considering Arthur, Merlin runs a dry tongue over his lips. "Was this—uhm. Intentional?"

But Arthur isn't even looking at him.

"Yes—" Merlin says, voice barely above a cracked whisper, his eyebrows pinching together, "—you. You wanted to humiliate me."

Finally Arthur's face jerks up. "Merlin—"

"No," Merlin cuts over him, "no. I get it. I guess I should thank you actually, for not dragging it out longer, you know? With this it was just one extremely embarrassing-in-retrospect hook-up. Didn't have the time yet to actually give a shit about you."

He runs his hand down his chest, smoothing out his tie, ignoring the way Arthur is gawking at him, the way Arthur's fingers are curling on the desk. "Well, it was fun, can't deny that."

Once again, Arthur is not meeting his eyes. Merlin just stuffs his hands in his pockets, thinks that's the end of it, and leaves.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

About a week later, when he has some time in between haggling with IT over beta testing and fielding all of Gaius's many complaints, Merlin goes to his spot at the vending machines and tries to accurately estimate his emotional state.

And at the end of it, he doesn't feel too bad.

It's Arthur who did the twisted thing, and hey—Merlin got fucked over pretty good, but he also got  _fucked_  pretty good. So if a bruised ego is the only casualty…

Exhaling, he pops an M&M into his mouth and bites down. Right as he swallows, he feels his phone vibrate. He pulls it out, and stares at the screen, seeing a new email has arrived.

It's from Arthur.

It says…

_Please send a progress report on the App Project with current expenses._

_Arthur Pendragon_

_Pendragon Financial_

Merlin frowns. He's never been asked for a progress report from anyone higher than Gaius. But this is part of the job, so he quickly taps out a response devoid of emotion, completely boiled down to one sterile line about beta testing. He hits send. And he thinks that's the end of it.

But then two days later, he's sitting at his computer laughing at gifs of baby animals when he hears his email ping. He sees the sender, Arthur Pendragon, and the subject, No Subject, and he feels a moment of hesitation. Then, he opens the email.

_I have it on good authority that the vending machines are stocked every wednesday at seven am._

_Arthur Pendragon_

_Pendragon Financial_

Merlin doesn't respond.

And it's with great suspicion, a week later, that he spies yet another email from Arthur in his inbox.

_Turns out vending machine replenishment falls under my purview. Perhaps it would be advantageous to be the only one who knows the new restock day?_

_Arthur Pendragon_

_Pendragon Financial_

Merlin has his finger hovering over the mouse, the pointer hovering over the delete button, when his email pings again. "What," he snaps, opening the message.

_Which goes down easiest? I was thinking I might challenge the current champion this year._

_Arthur Pendragon_

_Pendragon Financial_

And with the email, is an attachment that Merlin is very adverse to opening, but curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on it. It's a picture of a supermarket aisle, dozens of different brands of hot dogs on display.

This earns a light snort. Which Merlin quickly tries to cover with the back of his hand.

He deletes the email.

They're not apologies. They're not anything. They're weird little messages poking at Merlin, like Arthur is some socially-inept schoolyard bully saying dumb things to get someone's attention. Merlin doesn't have to respond to them. He doesn't.

And… apparently Arthur figured that out. Because the next one read:

_Please send a current employee roster for the App Project, as well as hour timetables for the time spent on development._

_Arthur Pendragon_

_Pendragon Financial_

Merlin dutifully fills out the timetables and is working on the employee roster when his desk phone rings. He picks it up, and rests the handle on his shoulder, tilting his head down on it as he continues to type. "Merlin Emrys."

"Ah, so you are alive, then."

Merlin frowns, recognizing Arthur's voice. "I'll have the timetables and roster to you in a few minutes, Mr. Pendragon."

He says the last thing without thinking, but the second he does, the memory of panting that same name hits him, and his cheeks flush, his fingers stuttering on the keyboard.

Arthur is silent for a breath. But then he says, "Look, Merlin, it wasn't quite the clever little game I thought it was going to be—"

"Is that all?" Merlin says. "Or do you need employee tax records for the past year? A log of how many times everyone's gone to the loo?"

"Merlin."

Merlin hangs up on him, and vows to just delete any more 'No Subject' emails he gets, without even looking at them.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Christ," Gwen says, "Why don't we get a conference room like this one?"

Merlin glances around at the fancy sconces and plush leather chairs. "Honestly, anything that makes it easier to draw out these types of meetings is something I'm happier without."

"Good point."

They both stare at Percy, who is nervously shifting through all the paperwork, even though Merlin's said a million times that the slideshow presentation will work fine, and he would be the one presenting anyway. Mordred is drawing stick figures on his notepad.

Another beat of silence passes, and then Gwen leans back in her chair with a groan. "This is such a dud. They're going to see the bullshit from a mile away."

"No—" Merlin replies, but he's cut off when the glass doors to the conference room open, and in come Arthur, Gaius, and who Merlin guesses is Morgana. Behind all of them appears Uther.

Merlin tries not to pale.

The whole group sits down at the other end of the conference table, setting out their notepads and ipads and phones. Merlin can't help but notice the fine cut of Arthur's three-piece grey suit. He licks his lips, and avoids Arthur's eyes.

"So," Uther says. "Special Projects Team." He says it like he's just discovered he's stepped in dogshit.

"Yes," Merlin says, standing up. He introduces himself, Gwen, Percy and Mordred. His gaze flashes over to Arthur, but Arthur is looking down.

When Mordred turns the lights off, and the presentation lights up on the screen, Merlin looks up at it, swallows, is about to speak, but then he makes the mistake of looking at Arthur one last time.

Arthur is frowning.

Well, not really that.

He's sulking.

He's slumped down in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and he's staring at Merlin, his lips in a thin, pouting line.

"Ah.." Merlin says. At his stumble, the pout is gone for a second, and replaced with a smirk. This wakes Merlin up. He quickly launches into the presentation, describing all the features of his bullshit app, well aware of how doomed his team is. He avoids looking at Arthur.

When he's done, he exhales a weary breath. He blinks when Mordred turns the light backs on. He watches as Mordred sits back down, and then his team turns to face the Pendragons like they're about to meet the firing squad.

Uther is expressionless. He's not even looking at Merlin, or at the screen. He's looking at his pen on the desk. And then he sighs. "This is… the third project I've seen from your team?"

"Yes, Mr—" Merlin chokes, and clears his throat.

He sees the light blush on Arthur's cheeks.

Uther taps his finger on the table. Then, he glances at Morgana. "And what did you think?"

"It could use some work," she says, in a rather charitable way.

Uther turns to Arthur. "And you?"

Arthur looks at his father, and then glances up at Merlin. He bites his lip, and then asks, "Is there a way to draw profit from this app? Patent it and sell it to other companies?"

"It—" Merlin says, "—it's functions are dedicated to Pendragon Financial, it wouldn't be feasible to offer it to others."

The look of frustration Arthur shoots him makes Merlin realize that Arthur is attempting to help a sinking ship. But that's just not going to work. "It is what it is," Merlin says, and he notices Uther's eyes flicker up to him, "if we do a full roll-out of all the features we've talked about here, the analyst would have an app that allows them to work anywhere."

"They already can work anywhere," Uther says slowly, "on their computers. Why do they all need ipads?"

Merlin stares at him, stares at the impending end of his job, and possibly the end of Gwen's, Percy's and Mordred's jobs. And then he turns to Arthur.

Arthur is watching him, eyes narrowed, and arms crossed. Finally, after drawing in a long breath, he turns to Uther, and rests his palm on the table. "Father, I see the potential of this app."

Morgana gasps, but it sounds fake and amused.

"Do you now," Uther replies drolly.

"Yes," Arthur says. His face is practically contorted with pain.

Uther looks at Merlin again, and it almost feels like he's sizing him up. But then he sighs, and glances at his watch. "Fine. Gaius, it's approved. Just make sure they don't go overboard with the expenses."

"Yes sir," Gaius coughs, clearly surprised. He's not the only one.

When the Pendragons leave the room, Merlin is surrounded by his team and they're all slapping him on the back and laughing and calling him insane—and he's laughing right along with them but trying to breath evenly because he feels like he's about to have a goddamn heart attack.

"I don't know what spell you put on Arthur," Gwen says, "or maybe he really thought it was a good idea—"

They all howl at that.

And Merlin feels his phone vibrate with an incoming text message.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Merlin steps quickly through the underground garage, blowing on his palms and rubbing them together. Turning down a row of cars, he sees Arthur at the end.

He's leaning against his car, and he's wearing a black wool overcoat, collars turned up. He's got his hands stuffed in his pockets, and he's scowling at Merlin as Merlin walks up to him. "You made me look like a right ponce."

"Yes, I did," Merlin replies, hanging back a couple of feet.

Suddenly, Arthur reaches forward and grabs Merlin by the wrist, dragging him around and then slamming him back against the car. Merlin nearly bites his tongue, eyes wide, and he gapes at Arthur, who's watching him with dark eyes. "Now my father thinks I'm a drooling idiot who can only make decisions with my cock."

Merlin blinks at that. "Wait… he knows?"

Lip twisting up in a smirk, Arthur shakes his head. "Yes, he knows. Of course he knows. He'd have me disowned if he thought I actually believed in your god-awful idea."

"Hey," Merlin says, "It's not that awful—"

Arthur shoves forward, cupping Merlin's groin and squeezing up. "Christ," Merlin cries, his eyes watering. He drops his hands on Arthur's shoulders, breathing heavily.

Leaning in, Arthur says, "It's an awful idea."

Merlin nods.

"And we're even."

Nodding a little more meekly, Merlin relaxes into Arthur's massaging hold, sucking in a breath. He wraps his arms around Arthur's neck, and pulls him in closer so that Merlin can press his face down at the crook. "The next idea will be better," he says.

"That wouldn't be much of a stretch."

He bites down on Arthur's neck, and hears a laugh. "All right, all right," Arthur coos, petting Merlin's hair even as he keeps rubbing at Merlin's groin with his other hand. "Until then, though, I think you're the one who owes me a favor."

"I thought it was even."

The next thing he knows, he's being shoved around chest first against the car. Arthur thrusts once against his ass, nice and hard and enough to show Merlin who's boss. He's gripping Merlin's arms and pressing his entire weight against Merlin. "Don't ignore my emails anymore."

Merlin drops his head a little. "Alright—" Merlin says, and then at the last second he caps it off with, "Mr. Pendragon."

There's silence behind him for a moment, and then the car suddenly beeps loudly and Merlin jumps.

"Get in," Arthur says. He backs away from Merlin, and opens the car door. "We're going to my place."

"What?" Merlin asks, rather stupidly. Then he grins. "Not your office?"

"No, not my office," Arthur sighs with a beleaguered breath as he starts to gently direct Merlin towards the car. "Sometimes I do enjoy fucking in a bed."

"Oh, so we're moving right along to fucking again, are we?" Merlin says even as he slides into the car seat and smirks up at Arthur.

Arthur rests his arm on the hood and leans down. "You don't seem to be opposed."

But Merlin can see the hesitation—the slight hint of worry—in the crease of Arthur's eyebrows. But Arthur had made himself look like an idiot in front of his father, much like he had made Merlin look like an idiot. So. Yes, things  _are_ even in Merlin's book.

Stretching up, he places a gentle kiss on Arthur's lips. "I'm not opposed."

There's a wicked spark in Arthur's eyes, and then he's running his thumb over his lips as he stands up and closes the door. Merlin watches Arthur circle around to the driver's side, and he can't help but think that things have really worked out in his favor.

**Author's Note:**

> sooo it went kinda d/s sorry ahahaha
> 
> anyway, henceforth I retire from kinkmemes. if you guys liked my stuff, you should check out my original slash, y/y?


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